Chapter 823: Chapter 344: Playing Dumb – Part 3

…

Just looking at the program, it went like this.

Jin Yucheng somehow got his hands on a song-and-dance troupe and an acrobatics team. The opening act was a massive traditional dance performance, done in an incredibly grandiose manner, leaving everyone utterly impressed.

But he didn’t solely rely on flaunting highbrow sophistication–live streaming doesn’t cater to that kind of thing.

So, when the traditional dance ended, the lead dancer girl suddenly tore off her costume, let her hair down, revealing the leather bralette and black shorts underneath.

In an instant, she turned into a wild little pony.

After she finished performing an ultra-sexy dance number, the host finally returned to introduce her formally.

Beijing Dance Academy graduate, developed in South Korea, about to debut, trapped in an exploitative contract, angrily returned home, temporarily settling down, honing her dance skills…

This whole package left the viewers utterly shell-shocked.

The girl’s stage name is Zhen Ji–looks like she’s riding Yuji’s coattails all the way.

However, when she explained her reasoning, the story became a whole different version–

“Honestly speaking, when I came back to the country, my original plan was to enter the entertainment industry. If there’s no opportunity, wait for one; if there’s no role, work as an extra!

I’m not afraid of hardship; if I were, I couldn’t have stayed by myself in South Korea for so many years.

But just as I was about to sign with an entertainment company, I suddenly saw Yu’s news. At that moment, it felt like the whole world opened up–it was such a thrill!

I don’t know if you guys understand that feeling, but it’s like suddenly discovering there’s another path you can take. This path looks more rugged, but it leads to taller peaks, with views just as stunning.

So I made the firm decision to join the Golden Jade Guild. You could say it was Yu who inspired me to step into this field.

Maybe I’m a little naive, but I truly think this–Yu is professional, and so am I. Yu is beautiful, and I’m not bad either. Yu succeeded–I can’t say for sure that I’ll make it, but I’m willing to put in just as much effort!

Here and now, I sincerely ask for your support, your guidance, your protection. This fresh-faced newcomer, Little Zhen Ji, is here to pay her respects~~~”

The girl placed one hand over her chest and bowed deeply. Beside her, colorful streamers rained down. The streaming audience charged in with wild excitement.

Even Su Huai, sitting in his office, clapped for her a few times lightly.

How beautiful was that speech?

It laid out entirely “who I am,” “what I want to do,” and even expressed “I respect you as much as I respect myself.”

This was a self-introduction that could easily be used as a model for any live-stream host.

What’s even rarer was Zhen Ji’s composure, her clear articulation–she came off as outgoing but not frivolous.

To be honest, she’s undoubtedly a promising talent. The only question is whether she can handle the unpredictable challenges of solo streaming.

“Young Master Jin really pulled out all the stops…”

Su Huai became even more aware of the effort Jin Yucheng had put into this. This was the proper attitude for building a career, and it was executed at an impressively high level–except…

What a pity.

Su Huai sighed endlessly, but his actions didn’t stop–he continued using red envelopes to fight for the top spot.

In truth, this kind of red envelope competition doesn’t hold much actual significance, since viewers wouldn’t just stay in one livestream room exclusively. If they grabbed mine, they wouldn’t go grab his? Unrealistic.

It was purely a matter of pride–a status symbol.

So, after throwing out 12 million RMB in red envelopes without securing a stable top spot, Jin Yucheng’s palms began to sweat.

Too fierce–it’s almost reckless.

“How’s it going?” His voice tightened slightly. “Are the players who claimed the red envelopes showing enough enthusiasm in their support?”

“Not very high.”

Fu Daiheng furrowed his brows tightly, clenched his teeth hard–the anger was palpable.

“Damn it, a single red envelope can be claimed by up to 10,000 people. We’ve already thrown out 13 million, yet only 10,000 or so players have recycled their Star Coins back to us. The cash flow is just over 400,000 RMB…”

“What the hell?!” Jin Yucheng’s friend exclaimed, “Are these players all dogs or something?!”

“Exactly! I’ve roamed the online world for so many years–never seen players this shameless. Aren’t Gou Star players supposed to be the most solid ones?!”

The whole group swore loudly, utterly baffled.

Why is the return rate this low? Where exactly is the problem?

While they were dumbfounded, Su Huai looked at the statistics from the soldiers in his guild and burst into laughter.

******

And one more thing–by October, isn’t the scale of this all pretty clear?